


WikiWalk

by Amemait



Category: Saints Row
Genre: AO3 1 Million, GFY, Grammar giggling, How the hell did my brain write this, M/M, Tattoos, The pairings that aren't the Boss and Matt are all implied only, canon-appropriate swearing, it starts with zombies, rope kink, should I put Jane and CID as 'other' if I categorised them?, sorry - Freeform, that's why they're not category tagged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 18:57:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1195899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amemait/pseuds/Amemait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wikipedia never prepared Matt Miller for living in the past.</p><p>Spoilers for the end of Saints Row IV, assuming you got the good ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	WikiWalk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cruelest_month](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruelest_month/gifts).



“Wikipedia never prepared me for this,” Matt grumbled, picking a bramble out of his hair. The Boss carefully didn’t laugh, because, really? The bramble was just the icing on the cake.

“Wikipedia isn’t the end-all and be-all of knowledge, Matt,” Johnny chided, and damn, wasn’t that something. Johnny actually chiding the kid. Johnny actually _there_ to chide the kid, that was important too, the Boss still hadn’t quite gotten over that part yet.

Especially chiding him about something like the Internet.

“It’s-” Matt started, but Jane, who could spot an argument coming a mile off, held up a hand.

“I think that’s quite enough, Mister Miller. Wikipedia is, I assume, some kind of Encyclopaedia, yes? Even the writers of those know that what they set in print is never the entire story.”

“You have Encyclopaedias now?” Kinzie asked, brushing down her skirt. She looked ridiculous in it, almost as much as she had in that Zinyak-hell of hers, but the Boss wasn’t going to say anything about it to her face.

Jane gave a gesture which might have been the most elegant shrug the Boss had ever seen in his life. “The best are in French, of course.”

“Huh. Did not know that.”

Matt folded his arms, which managed to move his shirt enough to make the rip across his stomach visible again, and the Boss didn’t wince. He really didn’t.

“Why, Mister Miller! You’re injured! And you didn’t mention?”

Matt looked down, and he did wince.

“Um. I hadn’t really noticed.”

“Kinda happens when you’re running from Zombies. Wonder why they didn’t go after you though, Miss Austen?” Johnny asked.

Jane shrugged again.

“I’m sure I don’t know what a Zombie is, though if you mean those ruffians from before, then perhaps because I am a lady?”

“They didn’t go after Kinzie either.”

“True.”

“Great, chivalrous Zombies.” Kinzie shuddered.

Matt was peeling his shirt off, because–

“Mister Miller! Kindly wait until we have left the room!” Jane sounded indignant, so Johnny and Kinzie took her arms and led her out.

Funny, how she’d so completely accepted Johnny doing things like that.

Matt swore once the door had closed.

“Hey, glad you didn’t say that in front of the lady.” The Boss helped him peel the rest of the shirt off, mud and all, and this time he did wince. “Let’s get you cleaned up before we put some stitches in that, Nyteblayde.”

Matt shuddered.

“Can’t we wait until Shaundi gets here?”

“No, because that might not be for a few hours, and you look like hell already. At least let’s get this cleaned. I’m sure there’s a bathtub in here somewhere.”

“Why are we staying at an English Country Manor, again? It’s draughty.”

“Because we’d look suspicious going back to the invisible ship every night. Hold still.”

 

 

“Do you want to know what Wikipedia says about your Miss Austen?” Matt asked, once he’d had that bath and the Boss was busy picking stones out of his back with tweezers.

“No, and I don’t want to.”

“Fine then. I’ll not tell you.”

He groaned. Miller could be-

“Okay, fine. Spill.”

“Nobody can really agree on how she died. But I think you’ll agree the symptoms bear all the hallmarks of her becoming a zombie.”

The Boss froze.

“Don’t.”

“I’m just saying-”

“Miller, I swear to god, don’t. Just hold still and let me deal with you now, and then we’ll deal with Jane getting sick later, okay?”

Miller huffed. “Fine.”

The Boss pulled out the last of the gravel, and leant back, making a pinhole with his fingertips to look more closely at Matt’s back, see if there was anything he missed.

“Matt, how come you know so much about Jane Austen?” he asked, curiously. Matt very deliberately didn’t shrug.

“You mentioned in one of your more drunken campaign speeches that she was your favourite author. I looked her up.”

“And that’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.”

“Huh what?” Matt asked, turning around and then back to face forward again when it pulled at the stitches the Boss had already put in.

“Huh, I thought maybe you might’ve just, I dunno. Read some of her work.”

“I’ve read Sense and Sensibility and Seamonsters, does that count?”

“No, it doesn’t, and don’t mention that shit around me again. There’s not many things I’m a purist for, but Jane’s stuff is one of them. Ahah!” The Boss dropped his hands, and reached around to start undoing Matt’s pants. He jerked away.

“What the hell-”

“There’s some gravel and looks like some glass shards peeking out the top of your waistband there, don’t you want me to get it out?”

“I think we’re done here,” Matt replied, starting to reach for his shirt.

“I think I don’t want you going out there and bleeding all over things, especially if Kinzie’s right and the blood just attracts the Zombies. But hey, your choice. You could stay in this house forever, or let me check you over.”

Matt hesitated visibly.

“I think I can check it myself.”

“You didn’t even notice you were injured. Lie back down and get those pants off.”

Matt hesitated some more, then finally eased himself back onto the bed, face down, and pushed his pants down slightly.

“There, happy now?”

“Not even remotely,” the Boss said cheerfully, and tugged them down further-

Then stared.

The high waist on the damn pants had clearly been hiding a lot more than glass shards from Matt’s earlier defenestration. The Boss ran a finger over the pale purple outline of a fleur-de-lis, smack dab on the centre of his spine, right above the swell of Matt’s finally bare ass.

“Now how did I miss this earlier on the ship?” he breathed. “Or while I was rescuing you.”

Matt lay very still.

“You weren’t exactly looking either time,” he muttered. “Maybe you might have noticed during my rescue if there had been time before the Earth got blown up to finish the job.”

Oh, and wasn’t that perfect. The outline alone had to have hurt when it got done, spines usually did, but he’d been planning on getting it coloured in, too.

“Was it gonna be purple all the way through?”

The back of Matt’s neck was going bright red, which meant his face probably was too.

“Um. Yeah.”

“Like it. Like it a lot. Looks good on you.”

Brighter red. He ran a blunt fingernail along the ink, and was rewarded with a shiver.

“Sensitive here?”

“’s why it had to be a two-stager, even something that small,” he answered, sounding muffled. Burying his face in his hands.

“Cool. Glad you didn’t get any glass along here. Hold still, while I check the rest of you over. Good thing we’re not in France, or none of us’d be safe.”

“Mm, I think that only applies pre-Revolution.”

“Uh, Matt? Hate to remind you, but right now, we _are_ pre-Revolution. You know, we could probably finish this thing off. If you wanted.”

“Um.”

“Shaundi’s pretty good with a needle. I’m not so bad either.”

“Um. That’d be… Okay? Nice. That’d be nice. I was looking forward to getting it finished.”

“Yeah, it’ll look great. So, where’s your Deckers tatt?”

“I… don’t have one. I’m not even really meant to have this one. If MI6 found out…” Matt trailed off, and _damn_ that was hot.

“Got any other identifying marks I oughta know about there, Agent?” The Boss asked, finally finishing with the tweezers and picking up the rubbing alcohol again. Matt yelped as the sting hit his back.

“No.”

“Not even a Nyteblayde one?”

“No,” Matt’s fingers dug into the pillow.

“So you’re telling me this is your first ever tatt?”

Matt nodded, pushing his face into the pillow and biting back a tiny scream.

“You want any others done, after we’ve finished this one?” And if the Boss had anything to do with it, it would be only after they’d finished that one. The Third Street Saints mark permanently on Matt Miller, and he was the Boss of the Saints and he found it all almost unbearably hot.

“I don’t really think that’s a good idea. What if MI6 found out? You know how it is.”

But he hadn’t been afraid of getting this one. Nice start.

“I could always pick you up for a transfer to the Secret Service. You could work for Shaundi.”

“But what about after your two terms are up?” Matt’s back arched as the alcohol dripped into a particularly rough patch of skin, and the Boss added a bit more to the cotton cloth, merciless. At least he wasn’t screaming anymore.

“You could come work for me.”

“And do what, precisely, that Kinzie doesn’t already do?”

“Kinzie doesn’t have my mark on her back.” There, he’d said it. Matt gulped.

“No, I- I suppose she doesn’t.”

“Well, we’ll think of something.” The Boss picked up the suture kit again. “You want a gag again?”

“After this conversation, I don’t think that’s a very good idea, do you?”

“All right. Just try not to scream the house down.”

It was a truth almost universally acknowledged that a Boss in possession of a Presidency should find him- or herself in want of a fuckbuddy.

Since Shaundi had wandered off with Johnny, and Kinzie had started rejecting his advances in favour of waiting to get back with Oleg, and Jane was… finding C.I.D. to be exceedingly good conversation, that just left Matt.

Who looked damn good over his knee, getting his tatt finished.

“You know, I’m certain the artist I initially saw just had me on a table.”

“Yeah, well, I’m certain they were doing it wrong.” Missing out on an opportunity to have Matt Miller with his pants down on top of a guy’s lap was criminal. He really ought to make an Executive Order about it.

The Boss cleaned off the last of the blood with yet another alcohol-dipped swab, and looked at his handiwork critically. It was tempting to sign his name a little lower.

Matt had started off screaming a bit, but he’d calmed down once the endorphins had kicked in, and now he was kinda coasting. He could probably get away with signing it, at least until Matt got hold of a mirror.

Nah. Maybe he’d ask later though. Once they were all back home again.

Home. Funny how quickly that word had changed in his life, and how often.

Matt sighed.

“How’re you doing down there?”

“Wonderfully. You’re very good. It doesn’t tickle or hurt nearly as much as last time.”

“Good. Some folks say that the only good tatt is one that hurts when it goes on, but I really disagree.” Frankly, if it hadn’t been for the part where somebody was waving a buzzing thing around his neck at the time, the Boss might have fallen asleep during his last tatt, it had been so comfortable.

A nice little fleur-de-lis on his neck, same as the one on Matt’s spine.

Matt grinned.

“Jane was saying the other day how she reckoned you held me in ‘high regard’. I think she’s right. You wouldn’t have bothered to finish off my tattoo if you didn’t.”

The Boss didn’t point out that ‘high regard’ was usually one of Jane’s euphemisms for ‘would like to tap that ass’. Instead, he started packing away the inks.

“I’m glad we had the equipment to do this properly on the ship. Even the ink.”

“Mm. I’ve got some theories about that, if you’d like to hear them.”

“Yeah? Go on then.”

Matt shifted, and the Boss bit back a curse as their cocks aligned in delightful friction for a few seconds.

“I think we put the supplies on the ship ourselves. In our future.”

The Boss thought about this. “Makes about as much sense as the rest of this time travel stuff does.”

“Mm.” Matt settled back down again, not sitting up even though the tatt was done now.

“Getting comfy there are we?”

“I don’t want to put any pressure on it. Feels kinda tender.”

“Yeah, it’ll be like that for a while. You’ve got to let it heal for a bit. I’ll have to be really careful to remember to wash my hands before anytime we want to do anything.” The Boss sneaked a look down to Matt’s face.

He was blushing. He’d managed the whole tattoo without blushing, even when he’d been screaming, but now he was blushing.

“You’ll have to try not to land on your back for a while in fights too.”

“That’ll be harder, I think.”

“We’ll work on it. You can come to me when you want any antibiotics applied. I think the rule is at least three times a day.” Which meant he got to see Matt without his pants on at least three times a day, given how low the tatt was. Excellent.

Matt thought about some of the logistics for a moment. “Does this mean I get to be on top for a few weeks?”

The Boss snorted. “It might. Or I might just have to ask Kinzie for ideas on how to keep your back off the bed.”

Matt blinked. “We’re taking things to a bed now? Classy.”

Just for that, the Boss swatted that bare ass before applying the bandage. “You keep that on for an hour or so then come see me and I’ll put some more antibiotics on you. Keeping this thing clean’s important.” Classy. Fuck. He was classy as fuck already, just because they hadn’t done anything in an actual bed yet-

Matt was starting to pull off, looking for his pants.

“And, I hate to say this, but get some looser pants for a bit. Don’t want it rubbing. On that one, might be an idea to not wear a belt for a bit, if you’re not going to use the era-appropriate stuff from the manor to wear.”

Matt actually gulped. Clearly the previous artist hadn’t mentioned the rubbing. Had the idiot wanted him to get an infection?

“I… didn’t have much choice about what to wear last time. MI6 does have a dress code.”

“You’re not with MI6 at the moment, Agent Miller. Loose pants, or lose the pants.”

“I’m going back to my own room now before you can come up with any more bad puns like that.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere. I’ll see you in two hours – or less, if you feel that bandage starting to stick to the tatt.”

“Okay, …Boss.”

 

 

It had been two hours, and Matt hadn’t made his reappearance.

Which was easily explained by the fact that he was currently upside-down, caught up in wiring. Literally.

“You want any help getting down?”

“Possibly.”

“Huh. You know, this is giving me some great ideas for how to keep your back off the bed.”

“Shut up and help me down and then you can hit on me all you like.”

“That’s good, because I’ve got some nifty ideas for that four-poster now.”

“Did you just say ‘nifty ideas’?” The Boss wasn’t sure which part Matt was objecting to; the word, or the fact that he was having ideas.

 

 

“So this is your idea?”

“You don’t like it?”

“When I said on top, I meant-”

“I know what you meant. I know precisely what you meant. Trust me though, this is better.”

“This is disturbingly close to some of the things I put into Kinzie’s file.”

“Well if what you put into Kinzie’s file was as tame as this, then I’m really not sure why she still has such a problem with you.”

“Would you like to have a go at it then?” Matt rose up on his knees, then rocked back down again.

“No, because that would involve putting pressure on your back. Not meant to be doing that, remember?” the Boss pulled him down again, hands curving over Matt’s hips.

Matt just groaned, trying and failing to get any friction.

“So, you wanna tell me why you decided to get a Saints tatt then?” Now seemed as good a time as any, seeing as he had Matt right where he wanted him.

“You.”

“Good answer, is that the reason though?”

Matt squirmed. “Booooossss…”

Aw, he couldn’t resist when Matt had that edge of desperate begging in his voice. “No, you know what? You’re right. Less talk, more fucking.” He pushed up roughly, and was rewarded with the sight of Matt biting his lip and tugging uselessly at the ropes on his wrists which were keeping him sitting upright.

“I don’t generally like kink in my sex life.”

“Yeah right, Matt, you don’t generally have any sex life that isn’t me.”

This was true enough that it earned the ‘Cyber God Glare’, and then a yelp.

“Besides,” the Boss went on, as though he didn’t have one hand wrapped around Matt’s cock. “This is hardly kink. It’s more like keeping your tatt from rubbing against the sheets. Don’t want it getting infected.” Your tatt with my symbol on it.

“I hope you don’t intend for me to sleep like this.” Matt was far too coherent if he could manage a sentence like that, so the Boss changed the angle of his thrust again and smirked openly when Matt leaned forward as far as he could, arching his back and screaming a little.

Cool, same scream as when he was getting his tatt done.

“Now there’s a thought. But no, I was thinking you could just sleep face-down for a while.”

“Who’d…. sure… I would?” Matt panted. The Boss sat up, and kissed him roughly, just a hint of teeth, the way he’d worked out rather quickly Matt _liked_ that first time on the ship.

“I would. Might save some time, considering you’ve got to see me to check it three times a day anyway.”

“Yes. Just… promise… this? At least once a day.”

“Sure thing.” A couple of weeks ago, Matt hadn’t been kissed. Now he was asking for a lot more than kissing. Hot.

 

 

“Boss.”

“Matt. What can I do for you?” They’d already had sex today, and Matt wasn’t due for another tatt-check for a few hours.

“You can tell me why Asha is smirking at me.”

“Huh?”

“She said to ask you.”

Oh. Damn Agent.

“You shouldn’t be sharing hot showers, higher risk of infection that way.”

“I think writing ‘Property of the Boss’ on my behind is also a pretty good way to get an infection!”

“It’s just permanent marker, it’s not part of the tattoo-”

“Is that all I am to you?” Matt demanded hotly.

“I wanted to see what it’d look like,” the Boss replied coolly.

“So you put that on, when, exactly?”

“Couple of checks ago. You were falling asleep.”

“And you thought it’d be a good idea to take a marker to my skin?”

“I wasn’t going to start off with a needle there.”

“I am not property.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Then why-”

“It looked hot. You look hot. You look hot with the Saints Fleur-de-lis tramp-stamped on you, you look hot when you’re spread out on my bed with your bare ass while I check it for infection, you look hot when you’re bent over and taking it and you look extraordinarily hot when you’re riding me and seeing as there’s no locks on these doors, if anybody walked in the first damn thing they’d see is your back and that tatt and I want people to know that you’re mine. Got that?”

Matt took a breath, angry, but calming. “So I don’t look hot with my lips wrapped around your cock then?”

“Given as you’ve done that under the sheets in the morning so far, I wouldn’t know, but you probably do, yes.”

“You want people to know I’m yours, huh?”

“Hey, I’m just planning for when we get back to the present. You may not have noticed, but the others here all reckon you’re basically mine. Jane even thinks I hold you in high regard. Which I do.”

Matt licked his lips, nervous. “This is exclusive, then?”

“I don’t do exclusive, and I don’t expect others to either, but when we get back to the present, I do want the world to know that if they try to make trouble with you, they’ve got to go through me. And I am still the fucking President of the United States.”

“And I’m fucking the President of the United States.”

“Now you’re getting the hang of it.”

“I’m an MI6 Agent, fucking the President of the United States.”

“Pretty much.”

Matt seemed to think about this for a moment.

“Say if I didn’t mind another tatt…”

“Wouldn’t have to say property, but I wouldn’t mind if it had my name on it somewhere.”

“Would you get a Deckers one to match?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes.”

The Boss leaned back in his chair. “Where were you thinking?”

“A nice little one. Trouble is where to put it. You’ve got so many already…”

“True.” The Boss spread his arms out across the couch.

“Could get it to match mine in position. Or…” Matt smirked, and climbed onto his lap.

“Or what?”

Matt stroked the hip which didn’t have a tatt on it through the ridiculous jumpsuit. “Here could work.”

“Mmm. When we get back, though. I don’t want Shaundi doing this one.”

“Deal. But you can put the extras on mine. We’ll work on the details later.”

“Mmm. Can I keep putting marker on for now then?”

“To test out different slogans and positioning? I don’t see why not.”

“So you’re more upset that I didn’t tell you I’d scribbled on your ass, than you are that I did?” the Boss asked, seeing as how Matt was clearly making himself way too at home on his lap.

“I never said that.”

“You inferred it.”

“No, you inferred it. I may have implied it.”

“Shut up, I’m the President, I get to make up my own grammar rules.”

Matt gave him a smile which held all the promise of a really excellent smirk.

“Well then. Mister President. Let’s see if you can decipher this one. Me fuck?”

“Pretty sure you’re missing a word there,” the Boss suggested, keeping his hands where they were.

“Oh am I? Which other word might I be missing?”

“A magic word. The kind of magic word that makes all you want come true,” the Boss whispered into Matt’s ear, and was rewarded with a full body shudder, then Matt running a tongue over the tatt on the Boss’ neck.

“Please,” he murmured.

“There we go,” the Boss hissed, fingers fumbling with the zip on the damn ridiculous spacesuit.

“The sooner we get home, the better. I can’t wait to get back to real trousers. And no, I’m not using the ones from this era. They itch.”

“Less talking,” the Boss suggested, and Matt nodded, leaning in to nibble along the Boss’ neck tatt.

**Author's Note:**

> There was meant to be a giant sprawling plot going on here. The tatt completely blindsided me.
> 
> I might come back to this and try to do more plot later.
> 
> Fleur de Lis from here: http://sweetclipart.com/black-fleur-de-lis-silhouette-453. If it doesn't work or downloads into an eBook format badly, please let me know. Ditto for funny-looking spaces and so forth.


End file.
